


5 Times Bruce Was Certain Clark Would Leave Him (and 5 Times He Didn't)

by LilLayneeLoo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Clark Kent Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, I Make Clark Cry A Lot, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecurity, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd is Robin, Light Angst, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Possessive Bruce Wayne, Protective Clark Kent, Tim Drake is Red Robin, just FYI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo
Summary: Bruce has some...issues; especially when it comes to his security in relationships. On top of that, he feels like he just keeps fucking up, and the Clark will inevitably leave him.Clark shows him he won't, 5 times over.Mind the tags please. Mentions past rape/non-con.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Clark Kent & Damian Wayne, Clark Kent & Jason Todd, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Clark Kent, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 33
Kudos: 458





	1. Hush

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have works on the go, and as per usual, I'm choosing to start ANOTHER series instead of finishing the ones I have. But this idea popped into my head and I really liked it so I'm writing it. And tbh I'm almost done, so I will be posting these as I get them edited. But now I'm also back to uni and I switched my major so I'm wayyy behind and have 7 credits this semester soooo might be super busy. But anyway. I'll try.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. I liked writing it, and I'm excited to finalize the rest of it so I can post it for you too.
> 
> Cheers!

“Bruce, I really think this is a bad idea, and not just because I’m not fond of the idea of you reconnecting with your ex.”

Clark was pacing the cave, watching in dismay as Bruce suited up for his evening patrol; during which he was planning on locating and meeting up with Catwoman.

“Selina… she…” he was struggling immensely to find the words, unsure of how to communicate what he was feeling. There wasn’t really anything _wrong_ with Selina per se (in fact, Clark _should_ _like her_ , considering how many similarities there were between her and his boyfriend), but her whole _schtick_ left a bad taste in Clark’s mouth. 

Bruce had stopped in the middle of dressing and was looking expectantly at Clark, who suddenly went pink in the face and began rubbing his elbow sheepishly.

“I don’t know what she is, Bruce, but I just..I really have a bad feeling about tonight. Do you  _ have _ to go out? Can’t Gotham survive a single night without the Bat? Or at least let me come with you. I can-”

“Clark,” Bruce interrupted, pulling on a glove and pulling his gaze away. “Gotham is a fucking mess. You know that. And I’m not going after Selina because I want to  _ catch up _ . I’m going after her because she stole the ransom Gordon gave to Bane. I want to know,  _ I need _ to know what she’s doing with it, and why she took it.”

“But why?” Clark asked, running a hand through his hair and sinking down to lean against one of Bruce’s weaponry cabinets. “I know your history with her, and I know that you have no intention of turning her in for her crimes.”

“She doesn’t commit crimes anymore, Clark,” Bruce said roughly. “That’s why I need to know what she’s doing, because I have a very strong hunch that she’s not acting of her own accord.”

Clark tried not to roll his eyes, opting instead to clench his fists around the side of the metal case. He was thankful it was strong; he wasn’t squeezing as hard as he could have, but it was hard enough to bend the metal.

“Maybe she  _ is _ committing crimes again. That’s what I’m saying. Theft was where she started the first time. Maybe she’s transitioning back to that life, or maybe she’s already back in over her head. Bruce, she wasn’t afraid to kill. What if you show up and it sets her off?”

Bruce looked displeased as he pulled the cowl over his head. Clark was grateful that he left the mask off to continue their conversation, though he did choose to ignore Clark’s last question.

“Or maybe she’s being controlled by someone. Maybe she’s being threatened. I know she’s not only _ my ex _ , but also an _ ex-criminal _ , and I  _ know _ that I shouldn’ t help her if she is returning to crime. But I walk a thin fucking line here anyways, Clark, and I got her to change last time, so I’m going to try again.”

“Last time you were sleeping with her though,” Clark muttered under his breath. “The two of you fell in love, so she changed.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Bruce muttered back. “I’m not going to go running back to her.”

Clark scoffed, angrily.

“She doesn’t know that you’ve moved on, nobody does, so what’s to stop  _ her  _ from making a move on you?”

“ _ I am.  _ Good or bad, there’s not a chance in hell I’m ever going back to Selina Kyle, even if she happens to fall for me again.  _ Especially  _ given that my present attachment is  _ you _ .  _ I _ will stop her.  _ I  _ will prevent her from going too far.”

He pulled the mask up over his head, and the voice modulator kicked in.

“Now, if all you’re going to do is pretend that you’re  _ not  _ just annoyed that I’m going to speak with one of my exes, I’m leaving.”

His cape swept behind him as he stormed to the batmobile. Clark pushed himself up off of the cabinet and took a couple steps after him. He could follow him; get angry, fight him on it and demand that he at least let Clark accompany him, but deep down, he knew that Bruce was at least partially right.

He didn’t want Bruce to see Selina  _ because _ they had so much in common. Bruce wasn’t exaggerating; his vigilante persona absolutely bordered on criminality; it wouldn’t be completely out of character for him to disregard Selina’s unsavory actions in favor of trying to better her. Clark just couldn’t forget that the last time Bruce tried to better her, he ended up taking her to bed. And  _ living with her _ . 

But now, Bruce was sharing his bed with him, and living with him, so Clark swallowed his jealousy with the thick lump forming in the back of his throat as he watched the black door close behind his boyfriend. Despite what Batman thought, there was a more prominent and significant part of Clark that just hated watching his  _ human _ love head out for a patrol when he so often returned injured.

“Please, Bruce,” he whispered after the squealing tires. “Selina or not, please just be careful.”

\------

Clark was plucking away at his keyboard, deliberately focusing all of his attention on his upcoming deadline rather than Bruce, when he heard Barbara’s panicked voice over the transmitter. 

“Batman’s hurt!” She was yelling. “Like really hurt! Alfred, it’s bad! It’s really really bad!”

Clark glanced quickly at the flashing point on Alfred’s screen, taking note of Bruce’s location and launching quickly out of the cave. While airborne and en route, Clark focused his hearing to the specific location where Bruce had fallen. He could hear Selina’s voice mixed with Barbara’s frantic crying.

“Batman! Batman, can you hear me?!” she was saying. “Holy shit! Someone cut his line! He fell at least 10 stories! Batman?!”

Clark pushed forward with as much momentum as he could generate, landing thunderously on the pavement mere feet from where Bruce was laying.

“Get away from him,” he snarled at Selina, stepping menacingly toward her. “Get the hell away from him.”

“Superman?” she startled, turning toward the sound but keeping one hand pressed firmly against Bruce’s upper arm, and one gently gripping his thigh. It was as if she was shielding Bruce from him. “What are you-”

“I said, get the HELL away from him!” he snarled again, his eyes unintentionally glowing red behind the tears that were rapidly forming. Selina’s eyes widened and she stepped back to give Clark full access to Bruce’s body.

He felt sick staring down at the pool of blood forming behind the base of Bruce’s skull. He wanted nothing more than to remove Bruce’s cowl, but he wasn’t entirely sure what fail safes it boasted; it wasn’t worth the risk of knocking any of them out when Bruce so desperately needed help.

Clark immediately dropped to the ground and pressed his ear against Bruce’s chest. 

He listened intently, trying to isolate only the sounds of Bruce’s body from the rest of the world. He could hear his heartbeat, as faint as it was, drowned out by the gentle drip of the life spilling from his boyfriend’s head.

Selina slipped away while Clark was focused on Bruce’s vitals and, as angry as he was at her involvement in this (whatever it was), he let her go. He was distracted by Bruce’s sudden movement.

His chest contracted, as if he was trying to cough but couldn’t. Clark heard a weak and extremely pained gasp slip through his lips as well, followed by a stream of blood that leaked down to the cement behind him and added to the growing stain.

“Batgirl! Take off your cape,” he commanded. He heard the scuffle of boots on cement as Barbara stood up to obey.

Clark pressed a hand ever-so-gently against Bruce’s cheek and took a shaky breath himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce gargled in response, as if he was trying to talk. Clark wished desperately that he could see his boyfriend’s eyes; look into them instead of the whites of the cowl. 

“Stop, no,” Clark shook his head. “No talking. I love you. My hand.”

He reached down and took Bruce’s hand in his. 

“Don’t you let go of it, B, you hear me?” He said, his voice cracking slightly. “Don’t you dare let go.”

Barbara knelt next to him moments later, cape in hand.

“Unfasten mine too,” Clark said, gesturing to his shoulder with his chin. “It’s just a clip. Quickly please.”

She hastily unclipped Clark’s cape as well, holding one in each hand. While she was doing it, Clark risked looking at Bruce’s injuries with his x-ray vision.

“Roll them,” he said, eyes returning to their focus on Bruce’s face and the erratic rise and fall of his chest. “Tight tubes around a foot long. He’s fractured the base of his skull. We need to get him stabilized; he’s slipping in and out of consciousness.”

Barbara made quick work of the capes, passing them to Clark one-by-one. Bruce groaned lightly as Clark used his free hand to tuck the towels around his neck. 

“Your belt now, please,” he said. “I’m going to tilt his head very slightly, and I need you to gently slide your belt under the towels. I’d use his but it’s far too thick.”

Barbara nodded. Moments later, she fastened her belt again securely around Bruce’s chin, effectively stabilizing their capes against Bruce’s head.

“Can you fly him?” she asked when they had finished. “Or Alfred can bring the Batwing...”

“Alfred is already on his way,” Clark said. “I heard him leave just after I got here. I can’t keep his head stable in free-flight. He needs the protection of the plane.”

As he spoke, a fierce wind began to whip around them as Alfred descended on them. Clark slid one hand gently under Bruce’s upper back, careful not to apply too much pressure to his inevitably broken ribs, then repeated the action under his upper thighs. Flexing his core, Superman lifted Batman straight off the ground and began to ascend slowly toward the lower hatch of the Batwing.

Clark was relieved to see that Dick was also aboard when he finally touched down on the floor of the plane’s interior. Barbara was right on his heels, but Dick stopped her before she fully entered.

“Go back to the manor, take the roadster, and crash it,” he instructed. “Batman can’t go to the hospital, but Bruce Wayne can.”

“And Clark Kent will take him,” Clark murmured as he laid Bruce down and grasped his hand again. “Fuck the press and Bruce’s secrets. I can’t…”

Dick laid a hand gently on Clark’s shoulder.

“No one is protesting,” he said. “It should be you. Bruce will get over it.”

“I’ve called Thomas Elliott,” Alfred said. “He’s preparing for surgery immediately.”

Clark nodded appreciatively. 

“It’ll be in his hands now, I guess. Hang on Bruce. For me.”

\-----

Bruce didn’t remember much about the accident, or how he got to the hospital, but he did remember his fight with Clark.

Which was why he wasn’t surprised to find that Clark was absent from his hospital room.

That was the first thing he noticed when he finally opened his eyes; the second was the immense throbbing pain in the back of his head. He gasped and turned his head, as if trying to get away from the pain, but that hurt as well. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes again, waiting for his body to adjust to the sensation.

Alfred was sitting across the room, one leg crossed formally over the other, working on what appeared to be the Gazette’s crossword. 

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, as if he had just walked into the kitchen demanding coffee on a perfectly normal morning, instead of having woken up from emergency brain surgery.

“What...happened?” Bruce said, his voice dry with thirst. Alfred rose and retrieved a cup of water from the table at Bruce’s bedside, then held it for him to drink. 

Bruce sipped gratefully as Alfred explained how his line had been shot, that he had fallen from an uncanny height to what surely should have been his death, and how Clark had flown to his side, stabilized him, and delivered him safely to Doctor Elliott.

“Clark…?” Bruce questioned. He saw a flash of fear in Alfred’s eyes, and quickly expanded upon his thoughts to reassure his butler that he had not forgotten the love of his life. “Clark...helped me?”

“Of course I did,” Clark said, pushing through the door of Bruce’s room and closing it behind him. He pushed his glasses up and stepped quickly to the side of Bruce’s bed where he sank down and immediately clutched at Bruce’s hand. Clark offered to take the cup from Alfred, and held it back up to Bruce’s mouth. “What ever would have made you think that I wouldn’t?”

“I went out, even though you told me not to,” Bruce croaked, taking another sip of water from the cup. “You said it was a bad idea...you said you had a feeling and I didn’t- I didn’t listen.”

“Of course you didn’t, Bruce,” Clark said. “You’re stubborn, proud, and determined to protect your city. I knew I was fighting a losing battle; that’s why I let you go in the end, but clearly I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there...I didn’t...I usually…”

Alfred approached Clark and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, then quietly excused himself from the room.

“I  _ always _ listen to you while you’re on patrol, Bruce,” he sobbed. “ _ Every. Damn. Night. _ But last night...I just… I was scared that I would hear something that I wasn’t supposed to, or something that I didn’t want to hear...so I blocked you out. I should have just listened. I should have been listening.”

Clark raised his and Bruce’s hands until he could lean against them, gentle tears cascading over his cheeks and onto the sheets. 

“No, I’m the one who should have listened.”

Bruce took another sip of water.

“I should have stayed back. From what I could tell, you were right. Selina just stole that money, no ulterior motive.”

Clark shook his head.

“You don’t know that yet,” he said. “And because of me, you owe it to her to continue giving her the benefit of the doubt. She was there when I came to you, and I scared her off.”

Bruce frowned at him.

“Why’d you come?” he asked. “Why’d you come to get me, when I was stubborn and arrogant?”

Clark chuckled for a moment, then realized that Bruce was being entirely serious. His mouth fell open slightly.

“We have one fight, Bruce, and you think I’m going to let you  _ die? _ ”

If Bruce could have shrugged, he would have, but instead he just stared at Clark.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not...I’m not good at relationships, and I will  _ never  _ be able to anticipate your thoughts or actions.”

“Well you don’t have to,” Clark responded. “Because I will  _ never _ leave you for something as stupid as an argument like that. And I will  _ die _ before I just let you go like that.”

Bruce smiled weakly.

“I love you,” he said, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I love you,” Clark responded. “Sleep, Bruce. I swear I’ll still be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere.”


	2. Justice League

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce, Clark, and Diana form the Justice League. Bruce tells Clark the implications of the League's formation on their relationship, and it goes over like a lead balloon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like how this is going, I think. I hope you do too.

“Do you really think this could work?” Clark asked, folding his hands behind him and leaning against the dusty table. He was looking at Bruce, but half expected that it would be Diana who answered him. The three of them had come to examine an old run down building, testing the waters for where they might make a home base.

Bruce was walking laps around the perimeter of the building’s interior, critically examining all of it’s structural flaws and seemingly deep in thought. Clark had actually successfully interrupted him, however, as he turned away from a cracked window.

“I do,” he murmured in Clark’s direction as he walked past and toward the opposite wall. “This place needs a bit of work, but nothing that can’t easily be done.”

“A bit?” Diana joked. She stepped over a large beam that had clearly fallen from the ceiling at some point, and made her way towards Clark. “It’s practically crumbling around us, Bruce. Are you sure it’s worth the investment?”

Bruce scoffed. 

“You say that as if I have to worry about how much money it’s going to cost. I could buy and fix this building ten times over before it even put a dent in my inheritance.”

“Okay, point taken, Mr. Wayne,” Clark laughed. “The location is rather ideal, I must say. It’s basically right between Gotham and Metropolis, and considering that right now our team consists of… well, the three of us... it’s an excellent compromise.”

“But it isn’t permanent,” Bruce said, quietly. “If this works like I suspect it will, our headquarters won’t be a run down hall outside of Gotham. They’ll be in space.”

Clark and Diana laughed, and at first Bruce was sure that they had thought he was kidding, but Clark shook his head and gazed fondly at him.

“And I thought that, when I started dating Batman of all people, I could solely expect a man of strict business. I never would have guessed that you, Bruce Wayne, were a dreamer.”

“A dreamer?” Bruce practically snorted. “Don’t push it, Kent. It’s only logical that the League would eventually expand exponentially, given the increasing number of metahumans and alien species being discovered on our planet.”

“Future heroes walk among us,” Diana smiled at Bruce, then flicked a knowing glance toward Clark. “I’m going to examine the exterior for any additional signs of deterioration.”

“I get it, Bruce,” Clark smiled, as soon as she had left. “I like it. I love it, in fact, almost as much as I love you.”

He approached Bruce this time, while the other man was still deep in thought. Clark snaked his hands around Bruce’s waist, hooking his arms up toward his shoulders, and pulling him a step back until his shoulders were flush with Clark’s chest.

Bruce sighed gently and rested the back of his head against Clark’s neck.

“I’m going to miss this, though,” Bruce said. “If it does take off.”

Clark frowned and loosened his grip.

“What are you going to miss?”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“Well, obviously you and I won’t be able to tell the other league members about our relationship. It would be too risky.”

“Diana knows,” Clark murmured. “You don’t seem too worried about her.”

Bruce sighed again. “I trust Diana, Clark.”

“And you won’t trust the new league? Isn’t that kind of backwards? Entrusting the safety of the world into the hands of heroes that you don’t trust with your own?”

“This isn’t to say that I will never trust them,” Bruce said. “But you cannot deny that it would be wildly inappropriate if we were in a relationship, given the nature of our positions in the league.”

Clark let go of Bruce entirely now, save for one hand that he used to spin him around. Face to face he could see the dark severity in his boyfriend’s gaze.

“So if we form this Justice League,” Clark started, hoping for some clarification. “You have to break up with me?”

“No,” Bruce sighed for the third time. “We don’t have to actually break up, but it’s a significant security risk if anyone else knows that we are involved. In fact, it’s a significant security risk if anyone else from the league knows anything about our personal lives, if we’re to be the ones who lead the team.

Clark felt hurt, and he could tell by Bruce’s sudden defensiveness that it was written all over his face.

“Clark, we are still going to be together, but we absolutely must continue to limit our interactions to the privacy of our own homes; the Batcave, and the Fortress of Solitude. We cannot bring our personal feelings into the hall as Batman and Superman, just as we cannot bring them into the public eye as Bruce and Clark.”

Clark was quiet. Processing.

“Gotham especially likes to pretend it’s modern, despite it’s gothic backdrop; but really, can you name any Gothamite or Metropolitan celebrities who have come out of the closet? Coming out with you would just... it would cause a lot of unwanted and unsavory attention, for both of us. And I can’t afford to-”

“Wait,” Clark said, breaking his silence with an even more hurt and slightly confused expression on his face. “So it’s not Batman you’re worried about, it’s Bruce Wayne? Your reputation?”

“Not entirely...I-”

“Are you...ashamed of us?” Clark said quietly, his eyes now clouding slightly. “Is that what this is actually about? It’s all okay to hug, kiss, and fuck a man out of the public eye, but Bruce Wayne can’t have an actual boyfriend?”

“Ashamed? No!” Bruce said. “Clark, you're being ridiculous. If I was in a relationship with any other man instead of you, I would be-”

“So it’s just me then,” he snapped, more bitter than he intended. “You can’t come out in the open with me. Wouldn’t want to be seen dating Clark Kent, would you?” 

“Clark, you’re not...how did this become…?” Bruce was stammering, which Clark rarely saw him do. Maybe it should have comforted him, that this conversation was making him uncomfortable, but instead Clark just found it suspicious.

“No I get it, Bruce. I’m good to have around behind closed doors, but out in the open I’m not-”

“Can you just shut up for 5 seconds?” Bruce spat suddenly, pulling lightly at his hair. “I’m trying to explain this and you keep jumping in and to the wrong conclusions here! As soon as I said that I didn’t want the league to know-”

“See, no, Bruce. This is my problem right here. You didn’t say that you didn’t want the league to know. You said that they couldn’t know. Like it was a done deal. Like you had made this decision on behalf of both of us, without even consulting me at all.”

Bruce swallowed.

“Did you ever consider that maybe I can’t keep doing this? I spent my whole life hiding--who I am, and who I loved. I am so tired of it, Bruce. Being Superman...at least I get to allow that side of me to show for part of the time… but I don’t want to have to suppress my feelings for you! I’ve suppressed them my whole life, afraid that coming out would just make me even more of an outsider, but at this point I really don’t care anymore. I can continue to pretend that Clark Kent is just some bumbling fucking reporter if you want to keep our identities secret, but I cannot and will not deny who I am because you don’t want Batman or Brucie to be romantically associated with another man!”

“Clark, I’m sorry. I-”

“Bruce,” Clark stopped him again. “I just...I need a bit, okay? To process this whole thing.”

Bruce watched him as he walked out of the hall, wondering how in the hell that conversation had gone off the rails so quickly.

\-----

“He’s always like this, Diana,” Clark said, rubbing his brow in frustration and confusion. “He goes about his day, making decisions, deciding what’s right and what’s wrong for the both of us. He never includes me. He never asks me, and even if he did I don’t really even believe that he’d value my input…”

Diana crossed her arms and looked at Clark with raised eyebrows. She was perched atop a rock, her legs folded beneath her. Clark had come to find her, close to tears as a result of his argument with Bruce. She had listened to him, but now… now she had a few of her own things to say.

“Yes, Bruce can be headstrong,” she said, trying not to sound condescending. “But, unfortunately, he is often correct in his judgement calls.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak, but Diana raised her hand and her brow again. He closed it.

“Now, that’s not to say his refusal to consult others on matters that concern them as well as himself is justified. In fact, I agree with you that perhaps that is one of his most irksome traits. However, that being said, did you let him explain himself beyond the fact that he made this decision?”

Clark looked at his feet for a moment, then back at Diana who gave a knowing nod. In the distance behind her, he saw Bruce climbing into his car. He listened as the door slammed and the engine roared, and Bruce drove away.

“I can’t imagine how hard it’s been,” she said, softly. “To have spent the majority of your life hiding who you were from everyone around you…”

Clark nodded back.

“But, Clark, try to think about why you kept those secrets, or at least the one about your real name…”

“To protect my family,” Clark said, immediately. There was no hesitation. “They couldn’t be a target; for the government, or for anything else out there that might be against me.”

Diana smiled tightly, but remained quiet.

“Bruce wants to protect us,” he murmured. “And Alfred...Dick and Jason...Ma and Pa.. Of course he does. And I want that too… but that’s only an issue if our identities were leaked and I told him that I’d be fine with keeping them to ourselves. So I don’t see how keeping our relationship secret from the league is going to protect our families, especially considering that Clark and Bruce aren’t a couple either!”

“And as much as that is true,” Diana said. “Think about what he said… about coming out to the public drawing unwanted attention to you-”

“But I still don’t see the harm! What’s the harm in the attention so long as we can’t be connected back to Batman and Superman? He’s so paranoid about his reputation being affected by it, but he doesn’t even...he’s like... he doesn’t even really give a shit about his reputation! Brucie Wayne’s been hopeless for years and that’s how he likes it! Also, if Gotham is so damn prejudiced like he says it is, don’t you think the last person they’d suspect to be Batman is a gay celebrity?!”

Clark was breathing heavier than he needed to be, his emotions getting the better of him.

“Sit down, Clark,” Diana said, standing and gesturing to the position she had just left. “Sit down and listen to me.”

“He asked me not to say anything, because you know how he likes to think he’s perfectly capable of acting independently, but I talked to Bruce about this too.”

Clark, now sitting, stilled completely, his legs tucked to his chest and elbows resting on his knees.

“He came to me, and talked and talked and talked it out. He gave me the pros and cons and the logistics of every possible consequential situation that could arise from your coming out in either identity. He wrestled with himself; he knows you want to be open, and he wants to be open too… but Clark, ultimately I helped him come to the conclusion that it wasn’t a great idea. As much as I feel he should be consulting you instead of me for issues of your relationship, you know Bruce...you know that he’s shit at emotions. Talking to me, someone outside of the relationship and therefore relatively unbiased, helped him work through what he needed to work through.”

Clark rubbed his forehead again as Diana continued.

“As for his mentioning the prejudiced attitudes of Gotham and Metropolis; he is in no way concerned that negative attention via the media is going to damage his reputation. Bruce is afraid, that any attention drawn to the two of you will encourage reporters and gossip columnists to go to the manor, the lakehouse, and/or to your apartment which, considering how often you travel between these three locations as Superman, would inevitably result in someone witnessing something they’re not supposed to, no matter how hard you try to conceal it.”

Diana snorted.

“And we both know that you won’t just take a car, so don’t even suggest it.”

Clark was studying his hands now, folded together between his knees and wringing through one another.

“He’s not just trying to protect your parents and his family, or even himself, Clark,” Diana continued, her voice softening. “He is, first and foremost, trying to protect you.”

Clark swallowed thickly.

“That’s his primary goal, you know,” Diana said. “To protect you. Always. Especially since…”

Clark nodded. Diana didn’t need to clarify, Clark knew that his death had hurt Bruce a lot more than he let on.

“I know,” Clark croaked. He felt a surge of guilt in his stomach. He still felt that Bruce was in the wrong, making these kinds of decisions without him; but Clark also recognized now that he hadn’t handled the situation well at all.

He became defensive immediately; never gave Bruce a chance to explain his thoughts and instead just continuously piled-on baseless accusations. 

The truth was, Clark was nervous that one day Bruce would realize that he didn’t need Clark; didn’t want him anymore. It wasn’t that Bruce had ever really given him any specific reason to believe he was leaving, but Clark knew Bruce; knew that he seemed to already have one foot out of the door with every damn commitment he ever made, on the rare occasion he even made one in the first place.

And Bruce was...Bruce, which made it even harder. Clark wanted nothing more than to hold the man in front of a crowd; kiss him, claim him, show him off as his and his only. This wonderfully strange being, who kept mostly to himself but cared so fiercely and deeply for others. A man bursting with heroism, albeit displaying it in a slightly unconventional way. 

But nobody could see that part of Bruce, save for the few people within his carefully curated circle of trust; and so, in a way, Clark had nothing to show off, which to him felt like possibly the greatest injustice in the world. Bruce was amazing in every single way, but nobody even knew.   
But that’s how Bruce wanted it, and Clark had respected that so far.

So why did it feel so hard to respect it now? Especially when, in this particular circumstance, Bruce’s main priority was protecting Clark, and not himself?

“I have to go talk to him,” he said, as he pushed himself up from the rock.

“I think that’s something both of you need to learn how to do a little more often,” Diana smiled slightly.

\-----

“I think this is it, Alfred,” Bruce said, running his hand through his hair and pacing frantically around the study. “I know I said that after Hush, but I really think I fucked it up this time.”

Alfred was silent, staring at Bruce in contemplation. Dick was next to him, his hand over his mouth as if he was covering a smirk.

“He just...he kept cutting in! And I was trying to explain, but every time I opened my goddamn mouth, it just got worse!”

Bruce bit back a laugh.

“And now…” he sighed. “Now he thinks I’m ashamed of him. He thinks I’m ashamed to be in a relationship with the fucking Superman. It’s almost comical; would have been, if I had been able to coherently articulate that there is no conclusion he could come to that is further from the truth.”

He was still pacing, Alfred still watching him from the sofa. Dick crossed his legs and arms, and leaned back in his seat.

“But I just… we can’t come out, can we? I mean...I talked this over with Diana for hours, and she agrees with me! It’s too dangerous. If we come out, then somehow something happens that exposes one of us as Batman or Superman… Clark..his family...you guys and Jason...there’s just far too much at stake. And besides, if we’re going to lead the team, we can’t be openly together. It’s such a conflict of interest, and I don’t trust that there won’t be someone in the league who will start running around claiming that our relationship clouds our judgement!”

Bruce’s hands dropped loudly to his side. He looked expectantly back and forth between his adoptive father and son.

Alfred spoke first.

“Master Bruce,” he said gently. “I really believe that you need to be having this conversation with Master Kent.”

Dick nodded.

“Ditto. In fact, I think you should have a hell of a lot more conversations with ‘Master Kent,” he said, playfully mocking Alfred’s accent. “Seriously though, Bruce. You’re worried about your relationship with Clark and how it will affect the league, and you talk to Wonder Woman? Why can’t you just talk to him?”

“I needed someone who wasn’t part of it,” Bruce explained. “I needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t be hurt by the fact that I was even considering keeping us a secret. Clark is… just… much better with feelings than I am, and he would try to work through them first, before considering the facts and the logic behind my decision.”

“But it’s not your decision, Bruce,” Dick rebutted. “That’s why he’s pissed, don’t you see that?” 

“Yeah, but-”

“No,” Dick said. “No, you and Clark work so well together because you tackle problems like this so differently. You can lay the facts down on the table; the logistics, the statistics, the whatever-you-want-to-call-it that forces the two of you to think through something logically. Then Clark, who, might I add, is not emotionally constipated, steps in to talk about the intimate impacts of the decision you’re making. You each provide half of what has to be considered, and you’re then able to reach a decision together.”

Bruce sighed.

“Shit only goes wrong when you run off and try to handle things by yourself,” Dick said. “Which you tend to do in every relationship you have, romantic or not.”

Alfred smiled at Dick.

“Master Dick, for a man raised mostly by Batman, you sure have a decent grasp on emotions,” he joked.

“I’m an outlier too,” Dick laughed. “Jay’s got no clue how to handle emotions. I also happen to have a decent grasp on romantic relationships too, somehow,” Dick said. “And, Bruce, I really don’t think this one is over. In fact, I give it five minutes before Clark comes over to--”

Dick was interrupted by a gentle tapping on the front door of the manner; if they had been in any other room of the house, they wouldn’t have even heard it. Dick raised his hand and gestured toward the door, smirking as if to say ‘I told you so.’

Bruce frowned, then followed them out of the room. Both Alfred and Dick made their way up the hall and toward the kitchen where Jason was undoubtedly procrastinating his homework, while Bruce walked into the foyer. 

He contemplated looking through the peephole on the door, but realized that Clark could likely already see him, and might take that as a sign of reluctance to talk to him. So, he grasped the thick brass handle and pulled.

Of course it was Clark, standing casually on the step with his hands shoved sheepishly into the pockets of his dark jeans. His hair was a mess of curls, most likely from flying to the manor from the old abandoned building. Bruce resisted the urge to reach up and play with the one that was in its usual place, hanging loosely over Clark’s brow.

As Bruce noted Clark’s unruly hair, he also realized that Clark’s brow was furrowed over the pale red tinge of his eyes, barely visible behind his glasses. Bruce looked closer; Clark’s eyelids were puffy, and god he had clearly been crying. 

“Christ, Clark,” Bruce said sadly, stepping out onto the concrete and gently splaying his fingers across the younger man’s chest.. “Fuck, I could never be ashamed of you, or of what we have…I…”

Clark stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Bruce, pressing his head into Bruce’s neck and letting out a sob that made Bruce’s chest hurt.. 

“Oh Clark,” he said, pulling him closer and then over the threshold. He closed the door behind them and they stood in the entryway for a minute until Clark’s tears had subsided.

Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to Clark’s forehead, then looked him in the eyes.

“Dick pointed out that we make better decisions when we make them together,” Bruce said, softly. “I’m sorry I tried to make this one without you.”

“I’m sorry too,” Clark said. “Rao, I didn’t even let you speak. I was so…”

“Frustrated? Angry?” Bruce finished. “Understandably so.”

He guided Clark into the study, and they sank down on the sofa together.

Clark met Bruce’s gaze, and Bruce watched as tears welled up in his eyes again.

“I just...I don’t want…” he looked down at his lap and began wringing his hands. Bruce knew this was something that Clark did when he was upset. He sniffled. “I’m afraid you’re going to get used to being without me, Bruce, and realize…” Another sniffle. “...that you don’t really need me in your life.”

Bruce felt the sting of guilt in his chest again as Clark’s tears fell.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying so much,” Clark half-laughed. “I’m just...I’m so tired of having to hide how much I love you. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone so much that it hurts, but I do...and it hurts really really good and I don’t want to lose it for anything. This is...you are everything that I’ve ever wanted and Rao, to lose you because I’m Superman? I just… I can’t fathom losing you for anything, Bruce, I don’t ever want to.”

Bruce said nothing, but drew their bodies closer together, pressing his forehead against Clark’s and breathing in time with him.

“You’re never going to lose me,” Bruce said. “Whether the whole world knows we’re together or not.”

Clark hiccuped, and Bruce smiled softly.

“You are the absolute best thing that has ever happened to me, Clark Kent,” he said. “And I...I don’t want to hide either, but…”

“But we have to,” Clark said, pulling away from Bruce to wipe at his eyes. “I know we have to, Bruce. I would have come to the same conclusion myself, but I was just pretending for a little while that maybe we could just tell everyone. That it could be easy.”

He exhaled audibly, then smiled weakly.

“You do realize that I’ll be terrified every single time you go on a mission, though, right? Whether we’re open about our relationship or not, I’m not going to be able to hide that.”

Bruce nodded.

“I’m already terrified every time you go out,” he laughed. “And you’re invulnerable, so I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

Clark’s smile broadened.

“I’m going to remember you saying that. I’ll save it for a time when you’re bitching at me for being too concerned.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, then pressed his head back against Clark’s.

“So this,” he said, after a moment of silence. “This isn’t over between us.”

“Hell no,” Clark said. “Not a chance. But, I will miss our moments when we do get the league up and running. It’ll be hard, only seeing each other in a romantic capacity once in a while. With work, on top of going to the hall, I’ll barely have time to come and see you…”

“Then move in,” Bruce said, simply. 

“What?” Clark laughed. 

“Move in. To the manor,” Bruce responded. “You can keep your apartment to keep up appearances, but move your belongings here. I can make space in the closet in my room, god knows it’s big enough for both of us.”

“Are you...serious?” Clark said, his mouth slightly agape.

“Completely,” Bruce said. “If you stay in Metropolis, we’ll either barely see each other outside of the league, like you said, or you’ll just end up flying over here every night anyway.”

“But my job…”

“You fly here at night, why can’t you fly to Metropolis in the morning?” Bruce asked. “I’m serious, Clark. I can’t...we can’t come out to the public, but this is something we can keep relatively private. I want to make this commitment to you. Move in with me. Tonight.”

Clark’s smile widened, and he kissed Bruce long and hard. They stayed intertwined for a few minutes before Clark stood, turning around and smiling widely at his love.

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes,” he said. “I love you.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but shook his head instead. Clark was already gone.


	3. Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sad and sweet.

Minuscule fragments of flaming material were still floating down around him as Bruce clawed through the destruction. Charred shards of wood, steel beams and thick sheets of metal surrounded the area where the building had stood.

The building where Jason had just been.

“No…” he was murmuring to himself; his voice raspier than usual but not quite Batman’s intimidating growl. Shock and desperation clouded his immediate judgement as he spoke: “No...no...Jason…”

He continued digging around while he alternated between murmuring to himself and calling out for his son, until he finally spotted the corner of a yellow cape...

...buried beneath a thick sheet of steel and surrounded by flame.

“Jason,” Bruce gasped, and lunged toward the fabric. Mustering up all of his strength, fueled mostly by fear and adrenaline, he tore at the base of the steel, somehow managing to throw the heavy sheet off of his son’s body.

He collapsed, then, Batman kneeling beside his Robin.

He hastily pulled off his Kevlar gloves, pressing his hand against Jason’s bare and bloodied wrist. He knew he wouldn’t find a pulse, but he still felt grief tear viciously through his chest when there was nothing there.

He wanted to scream; to lay down next to his son and die alongside him. 

He pressed his forehead to Jason’s chest, unnerved by his already cooling skin. “I’ve failed you,” he whispered. “I’ve failed you since the beginning, and I’m sorry.”

Bruce’s breathing was harsh and uneven as he knelt over his body. After a few minutes, he sat up again, hooking his arms under Jason’s knees and shoulders and lifting him to his chest. 

He stayed motionless for a little bit, cradling his son’s body to him and crying without tears. He couldn’t place the emotions he was feeling, staring down at the product of his failure.

He didn’t hear the wind whip past him. He didn’t hear the gentle tread of boots through the rubble behind him. He wasn’t aware of Clark’s presence until he was kneeling beside him, one hand on Bruce’s shoulder, one on Jason’s knee, tears falling freely down his face.

“Dick,” Clark croaked. “Said Ja...Jay... _ he _ left, because you…”

Bruce couldn’t say anything, so instead he just leaned into Clark as best as he could, pressing his ear to Clark’s chest and trying to focus on his partner’s heartbeat instead of the lack of his son’s. 

\-----

Bruce didn’t remember how he got back to Gotham. He didn’t even remember what day it was; how long it had been since it had happened. He didn’t even know what Clark had done with Jason’s body.

He was becoming, however, awfully familiar with the damp corners and dark walls of the library, where his son had spent most of his time at the manor. He stayed there all day and all night, barely sleeping, staring at the rows of books that Jason had read. 

No one came to him. No one disturbed his lonely mourning, despite Bruce’s certainty that they felt it was unhealthy. He was sure it had been almost a week, when finally he heard from Dick.

He knocked softly on the door before entering, a tray with a cup of coffee and a slice of buttered toast in hand.

“I’m not going to stay,” Dick murmured. “But you need to eat, Bruce. You’ve been in here for days.”

Bruce wanted to respond; willed himself to stand up, or even just to look at Dick, but he couldn’t, and so continued to stare at the books instead.

He could feel Dick’s hurt and frustration radiating from his body, but was helpless to soothe him.

“The service is tomorrow at 2, so try to get yourself together by then,” Dick said, a hint of tears in his voice.And with that, he left the room.

The rest of the day, Bruce continued to stay in the library, and everyone continued to leave him alone. It was making him uneasy, if he was being honest with himself.

Not that he wanted to see anyone, really, but Clark and Alfred...he had expected them to check in with him. To at least try and force him to talk about what had happened.

But they didn’t come in through the night either, or the following morning. 

_ They blame me _ , Bruce convinced himself.  _ They think it’s my fault he ran away, and that I should have gotten to him sooner. If only I had gotten to him sooner… _

Just before noon, Bruce managed to force himself out of the library and up to his and Clark’s room.

As he walked down the hall, he noticed that Jason’s bedroom door was ajar. He peeked inside and saw Alfred, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He was dressed in his usual black attire, but it seemed slightly more neatly pressed. 

He wanted to speak; wanted to comfort his guardian as he had done for him on so many occasions, but he found himself simply walking past, unable to form the words.

He nearly walked right into Dick, who was carrying a crisp black suit of his own draped over his elbow.

“Clark?” Bruce managed, gesturing to their door. He hadn’t seen his partner at all, and he couldn’t hear any shuffling from the other side of the wall.

Dick confirmed his fears and shook his head.

“He went to Metropolis, Bruce,” he said, then stepped around him to go to his own room.

Bruce watched him go, then walked slowly into his room. There were clothes on the bed, laid out neatly in piles; not to mention, the bed itself didn’t appear to have been slept on. The sheets were pressed and the pillows fluffed. Bruce also noticed that Clark’s uniform and cape were gone, which meant he had flown there. 

All of the clothes laid out were Clark’s, Bruce noticed, and so he made his way to the closet and was horrified to find that Clark’s side was completely barren. All of his belongings were strewn neatly around the room; save for a few that Bruce realized were completely missing. The suits he wore to the Planet; his watches, and even the little Superman action figure that Jason had gotten for Clark as a joke had disappeared. 

_ He’s moving out, _ Bruce thought.  _ I was right. He was avoiding me because he blames me _ .

Bruce hastily pulled one of his dark suits out of the closet, stripping from his sweats and donning the thick fabric. He ran a comb through his hair and splashed cold water on his face, noting the deep purple circles surrounding his swollen eyes. He stared at his reflection for a few minutes, and upon realizing that he wasn’t going to look much better than he already did, exited the bathroom and headed downstairs.

He didn’t tell Alfred or Dick where he was going, but slammed the door behind him so that they were aware he had left. He took the Stingray, and drove to Metropolis as fast as the car would let him.

He found Clark right where he expected, in his old bedroom, standing before a full length mirror and fiddling with his tie. Clark had on a dark gray suit that Bruce hadn’t seen in a few years. He recognized it, and the black tie; the ensemble he had gifted to Clark the first time he ever attended a Wayne-hosted gala. 

Clark’s eyes were sullen against the gray of the suit, and Bruce noted that the bed was unmade on both sides. Clearly Clark had slept here, which made Bruce’s stomach twist. On top of that, he could see Clark’s signature blue suits hanging neatly in the closet to his right, and the small figure was perched atop his dresser, as if that was its place now. 

Bruce’s breathing suddenly felt excruciatingly difficult, air only coming in shallow gulps. His heart rate increased, and he felt empty. 

Clark didn’t turn to him immediately, and given that it was statistically impossible for Clark to be unaware of Bruce’s presence, Bruce felt even more panicked.

“You’re moving out,” Bruce said, his voice hoarse. “Your clothes are all over my room, you’ve moved some things here already, and the bed here is unmade. You left the manor.”

Now Clark turned to him. Bruce watched him look Bruce up and down, settling on his face. Tired eyes met his, and Clark sighed.

“Don’t do this, Bruce,” Clark said quietly. “Don’t jump to conclusions like you always do. Don’t get yourself worked up on today of all days, when you  _ need _ to be there this afternoon.”

Bruce pursed his lips.

“I’m  _ not _ moving out,” Clark continued. “I’m not leaving you. That’s not what partners do. They don’t abandon each other when they need each other the most.”

He adjusted his glasses.

“I know how you process, Bruce. I knew that you needed space, so I didn’t come in. I found my resolve with Alfred and Dick, because that’s how the rest of us mourn. We weren’t excluding you because we didn’t want you around. We left you alone because  _ you _ didn’t want  _ us  _ around.”

Bruce nodded.

“My clothes are all over our room because I was trying to find this,” he continued again, gesturing to the suit he was wearing. “But I never brought it with me when I moved. The bed here is unmade because I don’t have a butler, Bruce, and I didn’t make it the day I moved in with you. I haven’t been back here until this morning.”

Bruce nodded again.

“And the action figure...Jay…he…” Clark was stuttering, tugging uselessly at the tie he had somehow managed to butcher putting on. He became frustrated and pulled too hard, snapping the fabric in two and angrily throwing it to the floor.

“Losing Jay has been hard as fuck, Bruce,” Clark said, his eyes welling with tears, now, fists clenched.. “I felt for him; even though we came from different backgrounds, he never had the chance to know his real mother, never really knew where he came from or where he belonged.”

Bruce realized his own cheeks were wet as well, watching his boyfriend mourn the son they had basically shared.

“But he was...he was starting to belong with us,” Clark continued. “Then he had the chance to meet her, and Rao I don’t blame him for wanting to… but somehow, for some reason...they just weren’t supposed to I guess...but Bruce, nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him, and you got to him as fast as you possibly could have. You tried as best as you could. If I hadn’t been...if it weren’t for that mission off world, I might have been able to save him, Bruce. But I left, so if you’re blaming yourself as much as I imagine you are right now, you need to recognize that I’m as much at fault as you are. And, if you don’t think I’m at fault at all, then neither are you.”

Bruce exhaled loudly as Clark  _ finally  _ stepped toward him, wiping his eyes, and then enveloped him in a hug.

“You always manage to convince yourself that I’m going to leave,” Clark whispered. “How can I make you understand that it’s never going to happen?”

Bruce sobbed into Clark’s shoulder.

“I will  _ never leave _ ,” Clark whispered again. “I’m here for you now, and always, and I love you.”

They kept their hands intertwined the entire drive back to Gotham, and when they had reached the manor, Bruce took Clark upstairs and found him a new tie to replace the one he had ripped.

They found that Alfred and Dick had ventured into the library again, and when they felt they were as ready as they’d ever be for Jason’s funeral, they went to join them.

Clark and Alfred had planned the memorial together. It was quiet and sweet; Jason hadn’t had the opportunity to leave an impact on many people, but as the four men stood tearful around the young man’s grave, it was obvious that the impact he  _ had _ had on his family was indescribable.

Clark pressed a gentle kiss to Bruce’s temple as they lowered Jay into the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for the comments. I appreciate each one of them :)


	4. Robin III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark navigate Damian's appearance in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I focused on writing for another one of my works for a while, so I decided to finish this one before I write the last few chapters for that one. Also, it's spooky season, so I might try to do some Halloween stuff, or some October stuff. Not sure. Hm. Anyway.

Bruce stared at Talia.

“Slade’s assassins are not after you and I,” she was saying. “They are after me and  _ our son _ .”

She stepped toward the back of the boat and pulled aside a curtain. From the shadows stepped a young boy. Bruce’s best guess was that he was around 10 years old.

“What the hell are you talking about, Talia?” he asked her, eying the child. He stepped toward Bruce, eying him right back, suspiciously and judgmentally.

“Don’t look so surprised, father,” the boy chirped. “ _ I  _ thought you’d be taller.”

Bruce frowned down at him, then looked up at Talia with a questioning growl.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bruce snarled. 

“He’s your son…” Talia responded. “Can’t you tell? Look at him. Damian is the spitting image of you.”

Bruce glared at her, then glanced down at the boy---Damian. She was right. Bruce felt a little like he was looking in a mirror 20 years ago. 

“Beloved,” Talia continued. “Though I recognize that this may come as a shock, it is imperative that Damian be transferred to your care. He is in danger, and until I remove Slade from the picture, I will not take him back.” 

Damian was around the same age as he was when he lost his parents; it hit Bruce that this would be hard for him in a different way, suddenly meeting a new parent and being expected to live with them. Being abandoned, in a way, by his own mother.

Especially because the new parent was  _ Batman _ . Was  _ Bruce _ .

Damian interjected then, with a familiar snark in his voice. “I don’t need anyone to  _ take care of me _ . I was raised by the League of Assassins. I can take care of myself.”

Talia glowered at him, and was about to open her mouth when Bruce stepped forward.

“You’ll come with me, Damian,” he said. “Raised by the League, Talia, really? I’m sure Ra’s was a  _ fantastic _ role model.”

“My Grandfather was a warrior,” Damian scowled up at Bruce. “I owe everything I know to  _ him _ .”

“Was…” Bruce repeated quietly.

“My father is dead,” Talia said, matter-of-factly. Bruce’s eyebrow cocked under his cowl.

“You sound really torn up about it,” he said. 

“My father has cheated death more times than I can count. I have been prepared my entire life for this day to come sooner or later.”

Bruce glanced at Damian, who simply looked stone-faced. Based on his devotion to the league, however, Bruce assumed Damian was at least slightly more torn up about the death of Ra’s Al Ghul. 

“Grandfather's death was an unavoidable inevitability,” Damian said flatly.

_ Or not. _ Bruce thought, staring down at his son.

Minutes later, Talia’s boat was speeding off over the water and away from Gotham City. Bruce was standing on the dock, Damian planted firmly and unhappily next to him.

“This is not ideal,” Damian said.

Bruce snorted.

“Tell me about it, kid,” he said, turning on his heel and heading toward the batmobile.

“I’ll drive.”

Batman whipped around to look at Damian, who was dead serious.

“No,” he said, unsure what else to say.

“I know how,” the boy persisted, walking toward him now with a hand outstretched. He was reaching for the keys.

“Absolutely not,” Bruce frowned. He vaulted over the side of the car, landing securely in the seat behind the wheel. Damian stopped outside of the car, hesitated a moment, then followed suit.

“Buckle up,” Bruce commanded, voice gravelly. He pressed his finger against a button below the gear shift. It flashed for a second, then the car’s engine roared to life. “And you really think I’d have  _ keys _ to this car?”

Damian huffed as he put on his seatbelt. Bruce gave him a sideways glance through the cowl, sighed, then clicked the button on the commlink in the side of his mask.

“Alfred,” he said, gruffly. “Please prepare a guest room, and then ask Superman to meet me, in costume, in the control room. We have company tonight.”

\-----

“He’s not a servant,” Bruce sighed, rubbing his face. “He’s a friend.”

“Alfred Pennyworth,” the butler said, extended a hand graciously toward the ten year old. “At your service, Master Damian.”

Bruce glanced around. Clark was nowhere to be seen, which was what he had wanted.

“Alfred, could you please show Damian to his room while I speak with Superman?”

Alfred nodded, resting a hand on Damian’s shoulder to steer him toward the stairs.

“Superman?” Damian snorted. “You work with the  _ alien _ ?” 

Bruce suppressed a growl at his own son’s disrespect. Alfred continued to steer Damian toward the stairs, sensing Bruce’s distaste for Damian’s comment.

“Now, now, Master Damian,” he said. “You mustn't judge a book by its cover. Superman is a formidable hero-”

“Not to mention he could kick your ass, League of Assassins or not,” Bruce snapped. He sighed as Alfred shot him a glare that said  _ I get that you’re defending your boyfriend, but now is not the time _ . What Bruce would have done without Alfred, he wasn’t sure.

Their chatter faded as they passed through the exit. Bruce removed his cowl then, shoulders sagging as he thought about the conversation he was about to have with Clark.

His partner had stayed with him through so much...his stupidity and recklessness, all of his injuries, his inability to process emotions and discuss them with anyone...Clark went along with him when he practically demanded that they hide their relationship from the League, and had maintained the same with the public as well, all because Bruce had asked him to.

_ Will he stick around for this, though? _ Bruce wondered as he stripped away the thickest of his armor. He began to walk hesitantly toward the control room. He couldn’t see Clark through the thick metal door, but he knew he was there. 

He laid a hand on the handle, but paused before opening it. He took a few shallow breaths.

_ He couldn’t possibly, _ Bruce thought.  _ I’ve put this man through hell and back, and now I have a  _ secret child _ who, based on my observations, is some sort of sociopath. Oh, and he’s murdered people before. It keeps getting better. _

Bruce sighed again, trying to compose himself, but either the sound of his breathing or the fact that Clark could see through the door alerted his partner to his presence.

Clark opened the door, replacing the handle from under Bruce’s grasp with his own hand, and pulling him gently into the control room.

He was wearing his uniform, as Bruce had asked. He had specifically said  _ Superman _ as to not alert Damian to Clark’s civilian identity immediately. Although he wouldn’t put it past Ra’s and Talia to have investigated and determined this information already, it still wasn’t his to share.

“Clark,” Bruce breathed, welcoming the strong arms that wrapped around him then and pulled him to his chest. “Hi.”

Clark smiled into Bruce’s hair.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Clark returned. Bruce swallowed thickly at the nickname. Clark rarely used it, opting mostly for “B” as it could be used both in and out of costume and would give nothing away. Sweetheart was reserved for Bruce’s most difficult times, and he marveled silently at the way that Clark somehow knew of his turmoil. 

Superman pulled back, tapping his own temple gently. “You can relax, Bruce. Super hearing. I know that someone’s here; a young boy, and no matter who he is or what he’s doing at the manor, I’m not going anywhere. I promised, remember?”

Bruce sighed, Clark’s gentle smile even more reassuring than the words he spoke.

“His name is Damian,” he practically whispered. “And he’s my son.”

Clark’s eyes widened for a second, then he cocked a brow.

“Like… like how Dick, Tim, and Jason are your sons? Or…?”

“Biologically,” Bruce said, heart lurching at the mention of Jason’s name. “Mine and Talia Al Ghul’s.”

Clark stared blankly at him. 

“Al Ghul…” 

“As in Ra’s, yes,” Bruce said, quickly, bowing his head in what Clark read as shame. “The League of Assassins. I didn’t know...Talia was…she…”

Bruce sighed again. Clark raised his hands and laid them gently on Bruce’s shoulders.

“She drugged me,” he admitted. “I, admittedly, was attracted to her, but I didn’t...I never wanted to…I wouldn’t have...”

“She raped you,” Clark said, filling in the gaps that Bruce was skirting around. “She drugged you, Bruce, then took advantage of you. That’s rape. You couldn’t consent.”

Bruce swallowed thickly again, the word  _ rape _ had been on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason, he hadn’t felt like it was appropriate.

“But I...I had thought about it, Clark,” Bruce said. “I had thought about sleeping with her, but I just...I didn’t want to because of who she was. Ra’s’ daughter; it was just a mess waiting to happen.”

“Whether you had thought about it or not, Bruce,” Clark said softly, voice cracking slightly against the backdrop of rage Bruce was sure he was hiding. “What she did to you wasn’t okay. You’re allowed to struggle to process Damian’s  _ mere existence _ , especially considering that Talia has now deposited your son on your doorstep expecting you to step up.”

Bruce could hear the slightest snarl in Clark’s words.

“But given our romantic involvement and the fact that you’re the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me, I think I am allowed to have to process this too.”

Bruce’s head stayed bowed down. Clark moved one of his hands to Bruce’s chin and gently tipped it up until blue eyes met blue.

“But me needing to process,” he continued, the gentility still somehow surpassing his frustration. “That doesn’t mean I’m leaving. You need to know that. Damian...we can work this out, Bruce.”

“He’s a murderer,” Bruce croaked, grabbing Clark’s wrist. “He was raised by  _ him _ , which means he’s been exposed to violence, bloodshed, the  _ Lazarus Pits _ . He might have seen...”

Clark frowned, shaking off Bruce’s hand and moving his own to cup his cheek.

“You’ll teach him,” Clark said. “You taught Jay, even after what he went through, you can teach Damian too.”

Bruce flinched once again at the mention of Jason, and a thumb caressed his face gently. 

“Jason is here, Bruce,” Clark said softly. “He’s here, with us, alive and about as well as he can be considering everything that happened. It’s in the past, and the warehouse...that’s not going to happen to Damian just because it happened to him, okay?”

Bruce nodded silently.

“And,” Clark continued. “If you’re ever doubting our relationship based on the fact that you have another being who is a  _ piece of you _ , try to remember Connor.”

Clark sighed this time.

“He’s a piece of me as well, and if it weren’t for Ma and Pa, he’d be stuck here with us too. Would your opinion of me change if that happened? Would you love me any less?”

“No,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “But Connor’s existence wasn’t your fault. You didn’t…”

Clark moved his thumb again, giving Bruce a sympathetic smile.

“My DNA was forced out of me,” he said. “Kind of like yours was, sweetheart. Just in different ways. You are no more responsible for Damian than I am for Kon.”

Bruce leaned into Clark’s touch, and Clark responded by pulling Bruce to his chest.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you more than you could ever imagine, and if I have to say it a thousand times for you to finally understand, there is  _ nothing _ that this life could throw at me that would  _ ever _ make me stop.”

Bruce nuzzled his face into Clark’s shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. Clark chuckled above him.

“Bullshit,” he said. “You deserve the whole damn world.”

\-----

Damian seemed to adjust fairly well to life at the manor, save for his frustrating inability to stay within it, and his infuriating refusal to get along with Clark.

“You DO NOT use that word,” Bruce growled for what felt like the hundredth time that week. 

“Bruce, it’s okay,” Clark said, quietly from his side of the table. Damian was glaring daggers at Clark’s chest, where the bat symbol was blazened on his t-shirt.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Clark? No, it’s not. It’s a racial slur as much as anything else that isn’t considered PC around here,” Bruce was glaring at Damian. “You do not use that word, in that tone, in this household  _ or anywhere else. _ Do you understand?”

Damian did not respond, but simply continued to stare at Clark. Jason and Tim were completely silent, as was Alfred, who was stationed in the corner of the room.

“Do you understand?!” Bruce roared, slamming his fist on the table.

Damian crossed his arms and slunk back in his chair, still refusing to answer his father.

Clark stood, and quietly excused himself from the room. Bruce didn’t follow him, but kept his focus on his son. From the other room, he heard the shuffling of fabric, the creak of the glass door sliding across its track, and the  _ boom _ of Clark kicking off of the ground and into the sky.

“Are you happy now?” Bruce snapped.

“Are  _ you  _ happy?” Damian snapped back. “You scared him off.”

“ _ Oh, _ ” Bruce tensed. “ _ I  _ scared him off. You can’t even fucking look at him without spitting out something about him being ‘ _ alien scum _ ’!”

“He’s from another planet, father,” Damian said, as if it was the most simple concept in the world. “He  _ is _ an alien.”

Bruce growled under his breath.

“Yes, he is, and yet he’s somehow more human than  _ you _ . Clark has more compassion and humanity in his pinky finger than you do in your  _ whole damn body _ .”

Damian snorted, his arms still crossed as he slumped further in his chair. He looked toward the window.

“Get out, Damian,” Bruce said. “Out of the dining and up to your room. You’re  _ not _ joining me on patrol tonight, or, in fact, for the rest of the week. You need to learn how to respect people of all races, species, etc. if you ever even  _ hope _ to be a hero someday. Go.  _ Now. _ ”

Damian started to protest, but Bruce caught Jason flash him a piercing look from the corner of his eye. Instead, he grumbled, but made his way out of the room and towards the stairs.

Bruce pressed his hand flat against the table and stared down at his plate.

“Bruce…” Jason started to say, but Bruce put his hand up.

“He will  _ not _ ,” he muttered. “Come between Clark and I. I will not stand for his backwards attitude toward  _ my partner _ , when it is entirely unjustified.”

“I don’t disagree,” Jason said. Red Hood had been the brunt of Batman’s anger  _ plenty  _ of times, so Bruce’s little outcry hadn’t phased him. Tim, however, sat with his hands in his lap and said nothing. “But you need to go talk to  _ Clark _ . Damian is a little  _ shit _ , and as much as Clark brushes it off, it clearly gets to him when the brat goes off like that.”

Bruce nodded.

“But you can’t keep going off either,” Jason said, raising his eyebrows at him. “Damian, as you should have learned at this point, does not respond to confrontation. He gets defensive and snarky;  _ kind of like his father _ .”

“Have you asked Dick to talk to him?” Tim asked, finally piping up. “He listens to Nightwing, God knows why. I’d try, but you know how much he likes me.”

“Yeah, replacement,” Jay laughed. He launched into an impression of Damian. “You’re right. I can just picture it. ‘ _ Shut up, Drake _ .  _ I’m the blood son _ ’. That would go well.”

“Alfred,” Bruce cut in. “Could you please bring Damian the rest of his dinner? I’ll call Dick, see if he can talk to Damian.”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred responded, stepping forward and collecting Damian’s half-eaten plate. “Might I suggest, however, that Master Timothy call him instead?”

“I can,” Tim said. “Actually, I’m supposed to meet him in Bludhaven for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll bring him back to the manor after.”

Bruce nodded.

“That’s fine, Tim. Thanks. I know you and Dick really get along.”

“Yeah,” Jason snorted. “Everybody loves Dickie-Bird.”

“Perhaps, Master Jason,” Alfred piped up, refilling Damian’s water glass and adding it to the tray. “If you were a little more kind, everybody would love you too.”

Bruce tried not to roll his eyes at Alfred, whom he knew harbored more affection for Jason than anyone else, as he stood and made his way out of the room as well.

“I’m going to go speak with Clark,” he said. “Alfred, please ensure that Damian fulfills his punishment.”

“Very well, Master Bruce.”

“Bye, Bruce,” Jason and Tim echoed. Bruce could hear them scuffling playfully over their jinx with each other as he stepped through the door behind the clock.

\-----

“Superman,” Bruce growled into the commlink. He was standing atop the Wayne Tech building, one of the most ideal lookouts in Gotham, hoping that if Clark was near, he’d spot him. “Superman, do you copy?”

“Batman,” Clark replied. Bruce could hear the wind whipping past his earpiece as he spoke. “Is everything okay?”

“What’s your twenty?”

“Currently in flight.”

“Okay, but where?” Bruce returned, trying to remain patient. “I need to speak with you.”

Clark didn’t respond, but moments later, Bruce heard the gentle tap of his boots on the roof. He turned around and saw him there, just standing and staring forlornly back at him.

“Hey,” Batman growled, low in his throat. He stepped forward cautiously. Clark’s eyes were puffy and rimmed pale pink. Bruce’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, B,” Clark said. The weight of unshed tears hung heavy in his voice, cracking slightly as he too stepped forward.

Bruce recoiled for a moment, hesitant given their semi-public position, but quickly opened his arms for Clark to stumble into as fresh tears fell slowly from his partner’s eyes.

“Clark,” Bruce whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Clark swallowed, leaning heavily into Bruce’s arms for several minutes before pulling back and staring into the white lenses of the cowl.

“Can we go home?” Clark said. “I honestly just want to go back. I shouldn’t have even left. It’s not a big deal.”

Bruce sighed, removing a glove and pressing his bare hand against Clark’s cheek.

“You had every right to leave,” Bruce said, quietly. “And it is a big deal. You’re crying, Clark, which even I, as emotionally stunted as I am, know that means that you’re hurting. And besides, even if it wasn’t a big deal to you, it’s a big deal to me. I love you, Kryptonian or not, and Damian needs to learn to accept that.”

“I’m not offended, B,” Clark said, sighing slightly. “I’m not crying because your ten year old hurt my feelings. I’ve adjusted to being called an alien. It’s been spat at me more times than you could imagine.”

Bruce frowned beneath the cowl.

“I don’t want to come between you and your  _ son _ , Bruce. It hurts me more to hear you yelling than it does to hear him make snarky comments.”

“You are  _ not _ -”

“I am, B,” Clark said, laying his hand over Bruce’s and pulling it down into a lock. “Every time you yell at him about being rude to me, you push him away just a little bit more...his childhood...he didn’t have anyone to show him how to tuck away hostility in the face of things that he doesn’t understand, or things that make him uncomfortable. He was surrounded by emotionless killers; it’s a miracle you’ve gotten him to be as kind as he is.”

“But this is  _ you _ , Clark,” Bruce said, exasperated. “You are  _ mine _ . The  _ love of my life _ , and my son, raised by assassins or not, needs to treat you with respect.”

“Why don’t I talk to him, then?” Clark said. “Like I said, he doesn’t know how to approach things he doesn’t understand because he’s never been in that situation before, or when he has, his mother and grandfather just told him to eliminate the threat immediately.”

Bruce squeezed his hand.

“I want to make myself,  _ my  _ story, and  _ our story _ something that he understands. Something comprehensible to him and not something that threatens his relationship with you.”

“Do you think that would work?” Bruce asked. “You know more about how emotions work. Do you think that’s what he’s feeling? Insecurity?  _ Threatened _ ?”

“I do. But I also think that someone should come with me. Someone who he already trusts, so it’s less of an ambush.”

“Dick,” Bruce said, immediately. When Clark gave him an odd look, he continued. “Dick won’t jump down his throat immediately if he makes a comment that I wouldn’t appreciate. He has patience ten-fold compared to me.”

Clark nodded.

“Tim is bringing Dick to the manor tomorrow morning anyway. You can join their conversation.”

“Thank you, B,” Clark said. He pulled the older man into a hug again. 

“I love you, and I don’t want you to lose you because of Damian.”

“I’m not leaving,” Clark rolled his eyes as he swiped at them. “Remember? I’m never leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by!


	5. Marry Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter!
> 
> Bruce finds a ring, and Clark gives him an ultimatum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished it! I hope you guys like the ending!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for your patience! Sorry it took so long.

“I feel like I’m living in some sort of fever dream, Clark,” he said, tugging at his hair. “Like...like someday, inevitably, the universe is going to decide that I’ve had enough of the luxury that is  _ loving _ you and  _ being loved by you _ , and it’s going to break that fever and I’m going to be left alone... _ without you _ . And Clark… what… what am I going to do then?”

“Jesus, Bruce,” Clark said, staring down at the small padded box on the table between them. “After all of this, everything that we’ve been through, you really still think I’m going to leave you?”

Bruce stared at the younger man’s face, watching the growing crease in his brow.

“I…” Clark stuttered, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. “I genuinely just...don't know what to say right now.”

“Clark, I-”

“Tell me, Bruce,” he said, lifting his head just enough to rest his chin on his fists. His eyes were still trained on the ring. “Tell me what the hell I ever did to you that made you feel so  _ damn _ insecure in this relationship.”

“You didn’t...I just…”

“Then please, Bruce. Just...tell me why you don’t want me. I can’t take this anymore.”

Bruce’s breath hitched in his throat, as he saw that Clark’s eyes were filling with tears. Instantly, the usually flawless skin around Clark’s eyes became sallow and tinged pink with his emotion. 

“I love you,” Clark said. “I’ve loved you for...Rao, Bruce, for I don’t even  _ know _ how long. As long as I’ve known you, I imagine, or at least that’s what it feels like.”

He took a deep breath.

“I know that I took a long time to tell you,” he continued. “I get that. But so did you...you harboured your feelings for me almost as long as I did mine for you, at least if what you’ve told me is true. And, it was stupid, I’ll admit. But both of us didn’t know who we were yet, not really...in the cape and out. But when we did come together, twelve years ago now… Bruce, that was the best day of my life.”

Bruce couldn’t find the words.

“I’ve tried so hard to show you how much I love you. I was patient for the  _ literal _ years when you couldn’t figure out how to say or show it back. I stayed with you. I stayed with you every time you put yourself in harm’s way against my deepest wishes. Every time you came home with a bullet lodged somewhere; every time you needed a knife wound stitched, or a bone set and cast.”

Bruce still couldn’t find the words.

“I stayed with you even when we had to hide it. I moved in with you and I've lived with you for  _ years  _ now, Bruce. I was here when Jay died, and still here when he came back to us; when he was broken, scared, lost...I was here, and I helped to pick up  _ his  _ pieces, and  _ yours _ .”

Clark stood at this point and stepped forward. He stood close to Bruce, but carefully did not touch him.

“And five years ago, when Damian came into our lives… that was a curveball, Bruce. You had a biological son who  _ hated _ me, and even though I was terrified of doing it, I sat down with him and Dick, I talked to him so that I wouldn’t come between the two of you… and it was hard, and it took time, but Dami and I are in a good place now.”

He shook his head and glanced behind him at the box, once again.

“In fact, he even gave me his blessing to ask you this today, B,” Clark sighed. “All of them did. Dick, Jay, Tim, Dami...and Alfred too…”

“Clark,” Bruce said, plucking up the courage to speak, but he trailed off as quickly as he started. “I’m not…”

They stared at each other for many long seconds, the blue of Clark’s eyes blurred by the tears in his eyes.

“I’m going to leave that ring there, Bruce,” he said, finally, his voice cracking with the effort of staying steady. “I want you to take some time. I’m going to grab a few things and go to the fortress. I need you to take a step back and think about this. Think about me. Think about  _ us _ , and what you want from our relationship. That is, if you even want one anymore.”

Bruce reached for Clark’s hand, but he pulled away, stepping back around the table and picking up the small box. He held it up.

“This is what I want,” he said. “I want to make this commitment to you. To promise you, openly, in front of whoever feels the need to be present, that  _ I love you _ more than anything in the world, and that I have no intention whatsoever to ever walk out that door. That I haven’t done it for the last twelve years, and won’t for the rest of my life.”

Bruce didn’t know what to think or feel.

“But, B,” Clark said. He broke eye contact and swallowed back his tears. “If you genuinely can’t accept that  _ this is what I want _ , that  _ I am choosing you because I love you _ , and not because of some sort of karmic torture you’re supposedly receiving…”

He half-laughed, half-choked at his own words.

“Then this time… this time I walk out that door... will be the last time.”

Clark gently squeezed the ring box and placed it back in the center of the table.

Wordlessly, he turned on his heel and made his way out of the study. Bruce heard the whip of the wind as he flew up the stairs, and moments later, the thud of the front door closing.

He lowered himself down onto the chair, realizing belatedly that his hands were shaking.

“What have I done?” Bruce said to himself, staring at the floor. “What have I done?”

“What  _ have _ you done?” Came a gentle voice from the doorway. The sentence was so accusatory, and yet no implications were behind the words.

Bruce startled and looked up at his eldest son, leaning casually against the door frame.

“Dick,” Bruce said, quietly. “I...just need some time to think.”

“Whatever you say, old man,” he said, stepping into the room. “But I see a suspicious-looking box on that table there, and if I’m not mistaken, that was Clark leaving the manor at superspeed with a suitcase tucked under his arm.”

Bruce sighed and looked back at the box.

“You said no,” Dick said, shaking his head. “We really thought you’d accept.”

“I  _ didn’t _ say no,” Bruce said. “I just...said everything but  _ yes _ .”

Dick sat across from him and grabbed the ring, popping open the top and whistling.

“Did you get a look at it, Bruce?” He chuckled. “Clark’s got good taste.”

“I don’t care what it looks like, Dick,” Bruce snorted. “I’d marry him anytime, anyplace, with anything around my finger.”

Dick stared at him, and Bruce met his gaze. 

“What?”

“Why didn’t you say yes, then?” Dick asked, obviously extremely confused. “You said that so confidently, why the hell didn’t you say yes?”

Bruce sighed.

“Because he didn’t get the chance to ask.”

Dick looked impossibly even more confused.

“I found the box in his Planet bag,” Bruce explained. “About an hour ago. He was working here and had asked me to grab his stylus. I reached into the wrong pocket, and then I didn’t know what to do, and I needed to know if it was what I thought it was.”

“And it was,” Dick said.

“And it was,” Bruce repeated. “At first he was sad that I had ruined his plans, but then he got so excited that I knew about it because it had been killing him to wait.”

“And that’s a problem…? Because?”

“Because marrying me… that can’t possibly be what Clark actually wants, can it? What happens if he decides one day that he doesn’t belong with me. That he’s destined for bigger and better things?”

Dick’s mouth fell open, then shut. He opened it again and closed it one more time before finally speaking.

“Bruce,” he said, cautiously. “The man has been with you for  _ twelve years _ . Don’t you think he knows what he wants at this point?”

Bruce shook his head.

“Dick, I am everything he  _ isn’t _ . How can he look at me, a borderline criminal, the physical embodiment of everything dark and uncanny in this fucked up world...how can he look at me and  _ love  _ me?”

“It’s not that hard, really,” Dick said, quietly. “The rest of us in the manor manage it every day.”

Bruce stared at him.

“We don’t say it,” Dick said as Bruce swallowed back his emotion.

“But it’s always been implied,” he supplied. “That’s how it was with Clark in the beginning, and he always understood. Why doesn’t he now?”

“Because, Bruce, you fretting about him leaving you sounds more like an excuse than a legitimate concern, given the amount of time the two of you have been together.”

“What?” Bruce asked. 

“Did he ask you if you still wanted a relationship? Or imply that there was a possibility you didn’t?”

Bruce thought for a second. _That is, if_ _ you even want one anymore _ . 

“Yes, he did.”

Dick leaned forward.

“I imagine that Clark is feeling a little bit of his own insecurity right now, Bruce. He has loved you unconditionally...all of us can see that he’s in it for the long haul with you, but somehow...somehow you can’t, or you think that you’re so fucked up you don’t deserve his love.”

Bruce swallowed again, and Dick pointed to the table.

“But that ring is him telling you that whether you  _ deserve  _ it or not,  _ he loves you _ and  _ he wants to be with you _ . And you… and you hesitating like that after all this time, after all the shit you’ve gone through together… that must feel like you’re trying to pull some sort of circumvention here.”

“You think he feels like that?”

Dick nodded, fairly aggressively.

“Based on the tears streaming down his face as he packed up his stuff, I think he just might.”

Bruce stared at the box for a minute, then slowly reached forward and picked it up. Dick watched him quietly, saying nothing more and simply observing him.

He popped the lid open and pulled out the band. He smiled gently at Clark’s impeccable taste and slid it onto his left ring finger.

“I love him, Dick,” Bruce said, standing. “I love him so goddamn much, and I’d be an idiot not to marry him.”

There was a moment of silence before Bruce was startled again.

“Well someone finally said it!” Jason yelled, stepping around the corner with his arms in the air. “God, man, we wondered how fuckin’ long it was gonna take you to realize that!”

Tim stepped out behind Jason, smiling broadly. Damian wormed his way past them both and into the room, flopping down next to Dick on the couch. 

“Todd is right, father,” Damian said. “Kent is good for you. You should marry him.”

“Were you all listening?” Bruce stuttered.

“We were, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he, too, stepped into view. He placed his hands on Tim and Jason’s shoulders. “Master Dick was nominated to try first, but we were all willing to ‘shoot our shot,’ metaphorically of course, should he be unsuccessful.”

Bruce shook his head, subtly rolling the ring around his finger.

“Unfortunately, Master Bruce, Master Clark has most likely already arrived in the Arctic. However, I have readied the Batwing, should you choose to pay him a visit.”

“Which means, go tell Superman you want to get hitched,” Tim said, smiling. “We have everything covered here. Go be with him. Go and make things right.”

Bruce nodded and headed out.

**(SHORT) EPILOGUE**

Bruce felt Clark’s shoulder shake with laughter, his cheek pressed against the solid muscle.

Both of them were watching fondly as Jason, Roy, Tim, and Connor, all of whom were completely ‘shitfaced’ (as Jay had so eloquently put it), tried to out-dance one another.  _ And Oliver _ , who promptly managed to fall backwards into a table.

With a wave of her hand and a few words, Zatanna had remedied the mess, laughing hysterically as GA continued to make a fool of himself. Canary had her head in her hands, clearly ashamed of her own husband’s behaviour, and Bruce mused that Ollie was lucky she was also completely drunk--she likely wouldn’t remember it in the morning, thus saving him from some sort of lecture on ‘impressionable young men.’

Dick, Bruce’s best man, was busy bustling about the room, ensuring the rest of the league and Mr. and Mrs. Kent had had enough to eat and drink, while simultaneously keeping an eye on a teenaged Damian who, regardless of his self-proclaimed “impeccable” social skills, was engaging in disturbing conversations with the guests harkening back to his childhood with Ra’s. 

Bruce was grateful, in retrospect, that they had decided to limit their wedding to their closest friends. No one in attendance was unaware of their alternate lives; it was a refreshing change to just  _ be _ without putting on a show. Even Alfred appeared to be relaxed, having been officially given the night off and forced to step away from service to enjoy his adopted son’s wedding.

Bruce was lost in thought when Clark suddenly turned his head and pecked his forehead, smiling into his hair. Clark reached his left hand across his chest and laid it over Bruce’s, their new, matching rings clicking gently as they brushed together.

“We did it,” Bruce said quietly. “You’re sure you want this?”

Clark pulled back and glared at Bruce, who smiled softly. 

“I’m kidding, Superman. You better want this, cause now you’ve got me for life.”

Clark pressed his forehead against Bruce’s, fully entwining their hands. They kissed passionately, for the second time as husband and husband. Clark pulled back, only enough to say:

“Good. That’s all I ever wanted, B. You. Me. Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading and commenting. Your support means so much to me!
> 
> -Laynee

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated. Thanks so much for stopping by!


End file.
